A Portrait of the Past
by queenofowls
Summary: When Annette finds herself with a portrait of Felix as a child, she's all too excited to bring it to his attention. With it, though, comes memories and mixed feelings... [Felix/Annette]


The grin on Annette's face is so wide that Felix's eyes narrow instantly from the moment he notices it.

Avoiding her gaze entirely, he grips the sword in his hands tighter still, wielding it with more discipline as he strikes the air with smooth, boundless strokes. Air is all he has the opportunity to touch his blade against these days, but he considers it a worthy sacrifice as the exchange is life and color in his wife's rosey cheeks since the war's end.

His avoidance of her eyes isn't, of course, because he does not wish to see her smiling face—he does actually enjoy it quite a lot, a fact he will only admit to himself—rather, such an expression is positively suspicious... especially whenever it is directed towards him and accompanied with an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes.

Specifically, it usually means that he's about to be subjected to some form of embarrassment in the next few moments. It wouldn't be the first time, it won't be the last, and Felix doesn't like the idea one bit.

He tries to ignore her, focusing on his drills, but then he hears his name.

"Felix." She sings the word rather than says it, as if knowing the sound of her sing-song voice will attract his attention. Predictably, in a way that makes him curse his simple-mindedness when it comes to his wife, Felix lowers his sword and eyes her suspiciously.

"…Annette."

Her smile widens knowingly as he replies, his voice tense with displeasure but never quite managing the bite he wields with ease against other, less desirable conversation partners.

"Guess what I found!" His eyebrows scrunch together. He has no idea what she could've possibly discovered, unless she means—his face pales. All of the unsent letters he's written her while deployed? The poem he'd written dedicated to her after a night of too much drink and too little sense? No! Worse—paintings of him being forced to dance in that atrocious outfit at the White Heron cup all those years ago?

His voice is weak as Felix forces himself to reply.

"What… exactly… have you found?" She laughs, then smiles brightly up at him. Squeezing her arms around his back, she presses her lips to the side of his face, revenge for his less than enthusiastic answer. Predictably and to her great satisfaction, she sees his ear turn red before her very eyes. "Annette." His voice is slightly strangled as he says her name once more. "Please don't do things like that when I have a sword in my hands."

Annette leans over his shoulder to peek at his face, but he turns his face to hide the expression, glaring away from her. _'Really, you should have more self control,'_ is what he plans on saying to her, but instead, he clears his throat and grasps for an excuse. "I... I was due for a break anyway." Annette smiles at him knowingly, taking his free hand as they walk to the edge of the monastery training ground. He takes a seat on the step as Annette sits directly beside him, her thigh aligned with his, the skin pressed against him. If he weren't in full armor, she'd probably press herself into his lap, just to see him fluster and protest.

It's not really that she enjoys picking fights with him—there is simply nothing that cheers her up more than watching her embarrassed husband grasp for things to do and say. But enough with the mystery—reaching into her pocket, Annette holds up one of her hands.

"I found _this!_" It's a crisp portrait, clearly from his childhood judging by the clothing. The young boy in the picture has hair that is far shorter than Felix's is now as he stands tall in a pressed child's military uniform. It has never been tradition to smile for portraits, but the look in his eyes a clear indicator that he likely wouldn't be able to do so anyway. Felix's eyes widen.

"Where did _this_ come from?" He takes the portrait in mild amazement as Annette giggles quietly.

"It's a secret," Annette responds , clearing her throat so that she can say the words solemnly. "And I'll never tell. Felix, you never told me that you had short hair when you were a child!"

He glances at her wryly, his voice deadpan as he replies with a grimace. "I can't fathom why not. Did Sylvain give you these?" Annette avoids his gaze, whistling awkwardly. He tries to smile innocently, but his facial features refuse to cooperate, his sparse brows drawing together with displeasure. "You don't have to worry, Annette. I promise, I just want to... to _talk_." In all honesty, Felix doesn't remember taking the picture, but... he definitely remembers the hairstyle. He self consciously touches the back of his head with a free hand.

"Oh, _Felix_." She pats him lightly on the chest. "I just found it interesting because I used to have super short hair, too." He grimaces vaguely in her direction and she accepts it as his attempt for a smile. "When we met, I was still growing it out."

"Ah. It must've been a sight." Felix tries to imagine it for a moment, the portrait still in his hand.

"Oh, it was. Mainly because the only reason it was short was because I burned it off during class when I was trying to master—um, you know what? Never mind. I don't want to talk about that." Felix spares an actual smile, shaking his head as Annette burns bright red. She holds out a hand, managing a teasing tone despite her blush. "A-anyway, don't get too used to looking at that portrait—you can't have it back. I got it fair and square." She grips one end of the frame, prying it from his fingers. "I may be a lot of things, but my boundless enthusiasm in pursuit of the truth is one of my greatest strengths! It was a lot of work getting my hands on this, you know."

Felix stares at her, wondering first how she got it in the first place, and more importantly, how she could find value in something so absolutely worthless. Times like these he truly feels that he can grasp how different they are. Times like these, she both perplexes and amazes him, and he is certain that he will never truly understand her. He closes her hand over the portrait.

"Trust me," he says finally. "I don't want it. I don't want any reminders of who I used to be." Annette runs her fingers through his hair. "A stupid kid who thought that knights and chivalry were something to believe in instead of a crutch of society. And honestly, I don't care what you do with the portrait. If anything, _it_ would probably be better off burned."

She gasps, leaning away for a moment.

"How can you say that? It's my _treasure_, you know! I plan on looking at it every time I miss you."

"Please... please don't do that."

"Too late! I already started looking for lockets that it'll fit inside of." Felix covers his face. He isn't exactly surprised, but...

Annette always does things like this. Treasuring worthless memories best left in the dark. Smiling at things that he would rather forget. Being close to him when he wishes to be left alone...

But then, he supposes, he rarely wishes for her to leave him alone.

It takes him a moment of hesitation, but Felix put his arms around her and leans his forehead into her shoulder. Taking a moment to take a deep breath of her scent, he can't help but feel like a strange sense of appreciation for Annette and the effect she has on him. It's not for the first time. She smells good. She feels good.

She meddles. She does unnecessary things. She is noisy and full of energy.

_And yet..._

"Don't bother." Annette stares at him, wide-eyed, and just at once, he finds himself crumbling. "...I'll have one custom made." She smiles brightly and, not for the first time, the Duke of Fraldarius feels strangely warm.

He wants to hate it, even tries to resist the decidedly soft feelings creeping up his spine... but instead, he just feels the urge to kiss her instead.

He moistens his lips and resists.

Cradling the picture in her hands, she stares down at it like it's the treasure she mention. Leaning into his shoulder, he can't help the less than reluctant movement of his hand wrapping around her middle to tug her closer. She shifts over without a word.

"Tell me, then," Annette responds quietly. "What were you like back then? I know you don't want reminders, but if you are going to forget all of your bitter memories, in my opinion, it seems like it'd be a shame for _everything_ to be forgotten..." She makes a muscle, hoping up her slender bicep. "I'm strong enough, so I can take care of them for you, good and bad."

Felix is silent.

"Felix?" Her smile and arm both falter for a moment, but he is only gathering the words he wishes to say.

"Weak," he says finally. "Weak and useless." He shakes his head. "I'd tried to best my brother in swordsmanship and failed miserably. I was nothing more than a puppet, simpering under my father's lessons on chivalry like everything he said was gospel." He holds her tighter, his hand trailing across her thigh distractedly. "I wish I'd known then what I know now. That even in the end, my father cared more for Faerghus than he did for me."

Annette lets out a laugh, her voice small.

"I can relate to that. My father..." She trails off, her gaze dropping painfully.

Felix's eyes widen as he turns to look down at her. He reaches for her chin, tilting it towards him without thinking. He just... wants to see her face, and when she looks up at him, the sight of her large, glassy eyes, so close, is more mesmerizing than he'd could ever put into words.

"Yeah," he replies quietly. "I guess you can."

Annette leans her forehead into his shoulder, her fingers tickling against the nape of his neck as they stroke lightly with one hand. She stays like that for a long moment before gazing down at the unhappy memory in her lap. She touches the portrait with her free hand and sighs.

"Oh, Felix. Why are we like this…?"

"Because… because in the end, the men we idolized... our fathers... they're just people. And as people living in times of war, it's hard to stay clean. We're all just animals, scrapping in the soil for what's ours." She takes a deep, shaking breath.

"Is that it?"

"I think so. But..." Felix can feel his heart pounding in chest as he speaks slowly, the thoughts he wants to express trying their best to tangle on his lips. "I think that's why I… why I appreciate my moments with you the most, Annette. I might not be a good man, but at least I can guarantee that I care about the people around me more than fighting for some vague ideal or principle because society says I have to. When I'm with you... I'm just me." His breath hitches as she looks up at him again in surprise and it takes all he can to keep talking under her gaze. "Hopefully it's the same for you." At her silence, Felix manages to tease her halfheartedly. "No need to get moon eyed. It's just the truth."

"I... I..." Annette seems breathless.

"You? Come on, spit it out."

"I love you, too!" She blurts the words starry-eyed. He chokes on his saliva, coughing for a moment at the unexpected proclamation.

"_'Too'?_ When did I say..." He trails off at her flushed, open expressions.

"It just felt like you were saying it! A-am I wrong?" He flusters for a moment, and in this space, she pauses, worry crossing her face. "I mean, I know you've never said it before and maybe you don't want to say it but, but... um... well..." She sputters for a moment, then trails off into silence. "W-well, it's fine! _I_ meant it so it doesn't matter!" Grasping the edge of his fur lapels, Annette tugs him forward, pressing her mouth to his.

_"Mm!"_ She kisses him less than chastely on the mouth. His surprise is short-lived, quickly replaced by his hands lightly cradling his face. As enthusiastically as the kiss begins, he savors the taste of her lips, tilting his head as he squeezes her lithe body tightly against his. He feels her back of her knuckles lightly stroke against her cheek and can't help himself. Felix smiles against her lips. She starts to pull away, but Felix drawing her forward again, pressing his forehard against hers. "That's hardly fair." His wife—his _wife__!_ How did he manage a thing like that?—laughs.

"I wasn't trying to be unfair, but it seemed like the right moment for that too so I went for it. Still—"

"Annette."

"Um, right. This isn't the time for talking, is it? Or wait, no, _was_ my timing for the kiss off? I read the atmosphere wrong, didn't I? If so, I'm so sorry. I misjudged the moment again and you know I always mess these kinds of things up and I didn't mean to. I just... um..." She trails off under the intensity of Felix's gaze as he stares at her in a way that he hopes cannot be misinterpreted. He enjoyed that. _Immensely._

...Still, it is Annette after all, so just in case... Felix clears his throat to clarify.

"You didn't misjudge the moment."

"...Oh." They kiss again, lips lightly stroking against each other's as he shifts himself as close as possible. He kisses her until he feels like his lips will bruise, but he cannot get his fill. Her mouth is so sweet, and his pounding heart makes it feel impossible for him to stop. But... as he always does when he feels like his discipline is slipping, and the pleasure starts to cloud his judgement—he forces himself to pull away.

In a way, he almost feels like it's worth it as well. Annette's eyelids are half-lidded with an almost preciously drunk expression, her cheeks as bright as her hair. "One more," she murmurs, but Felix strokes her face instead of indulging again. He clears his throat.

"We probably shouldn't do this here."

Annettes's eyelids flutter for a moment, struggling to focus. When they do, she smiles in earnest, giggling quietly.

"We shouldn't." The expression is so cute that he narrowly avoids cursing and pulling her forward again for just _one_ more—but Annette leans out of his arms, stroking her hair behind her ears.

"I should go and put this—" she touches the portrait on her lap lightly, "—away."

Lifting his shoulders, Felix reaches for his sword. "Mhm. You go do that." He watches as she crosses the room, his eyes trailing behind her comfortably. When she reaches for the door handle, Felix blurts out her name. "Annette?"

"Hm?" She turns towards him, her gaze soft and almost blindingly full. "What is it, Felix?" His eyes don't stray from his sword swings as he speaks, quietly building the courage to say properly the words, so foolish, so fragile, that he often thinks when he looks at Annette.

"I love you."


End file.
